


Anger

by Aksannyi



Category: NCIS
Genre: Angry Sex, Canon Compliant, Car Sex, Episode Related, Episode Tag, F/M, Hate Sex, Missing Scene, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rough Sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-16
Updated: 2012-11-16
Packaged: 2018-11-16 17:43:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11257767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aksannyi/pseuds/Aksannyi
Summary: Missing scene to Judgment Day, Part 1. Obviously, spoilers for that episode. Tony and Ziva are at each others' throats in the car in search of their elusive director, what happens when the frustration boils over? Set between the gas station and the diner. Tried my hand at writing some angry sex.





	Anger

**Author's Note:**

> So... Judgment Day Part 1. The episode leads you to believe that Tony and Ziva missed the shootout by mere minutes, and could have prevented it. What if it was more like hours instead?
> 
> Think about it… the tension was high between them. They were snapping at each other but still with a hit of that flirtatiousness we all know and love. Maybe they could have made it to stop Jenny’s death - if they hadn’t been too busy working out their frustrations?

_“What do you want me to do … hold your nozzle?!”_

Tony slammed his fist against the button on the gas pump to select his desired grade of gas, yelling about powdered donuts, and angrily began fueling as he watched his partner walk away in a huff, slapping her own ass as she did so. There was not a single person on this planet that could drive him to the levels of aggravation as his partner.

And yet he had to admit, as she walked away and his eyes trailed behind her, that seeing her smack that ass was hot as _hell_.

The pump stopped at $25, which was apparently all Ziva had seen fit to prepay, so he replaced the nozzle, sat back down in the Mustang, and waited for the woman to emerge from the store. He turned on the radio, pleased to hear the words “ _she ----ing hates me,”_ blaring from the system and it seemed, even censored for radio’s sake, _so_ fitting for the occasion.

As if on cue, she walked back out of the store with a small baggie in hand, producing anything but the powdered donuts he’d requested. Tony’s blood began to boil. _Fucking Ziva, I’m going to kill her,_ he thought to himself, but merely looked in the bag and snapped, “Seriously?”

“What?” she snapped back, snatching the bag back toward her and glaring at her partner.

“No donuts? I’m sure you got something you wanted though, didn’t you?”

“They did not have any, _Tony,”_ she snapped, the additional vile in the way she ground out his name between her teeth not lost on her partner.  “And furthermore,” she continued, “we do not have _time_ to sit here munching on donuts, or have you forgotten the reason for this trek through this unbearably hot desert?”

“I can eat and drive at the same time, unlike someone I know,” was the irritated response, as he put the car in gear and sped off the gas station lot.

“Then _bite me,_ ” she challenged.

Tony slammed on the brakes, sending the car to a screeching halt, less than a mile from where he’d initially peeled out of the lot. He slammed the car into park, undid his seatbelt, and leaned over to his partner and bit, _hard,_ on her neck, nearly drawing blood in the process.

“What the _fuck_ are you doing?” was her shouted response as she began to tug at his hair, but as his bite turned into more of a light nibble, she found herself running her fingers through it, encouraging him, despite her anger.

“You told me to bite you, did you not?” he responded, and resumed nibbling on her neck, making his way up toward her earlobe, inhaling the intoxicating scent of the angry woman beside him.

“You son of a bitch,” she muttered, pulling him off her neck by his hair and again toward her, to kiss him angrily on the mouth. She felt her partner growl into her mouth, the kiss deepening despite her pure hatred for the man she was kissing at that very moment.

Oh, but she was turned on… so _very_ turned on.

Tony pulled from her mouth again and went back to biting her neck, reaching under her shirt to grope hungrily at her breasts, scratching his way up her body as he did so.

“Fuck,” she groaned, digging her nails into her partner’s scalp. She pulled his mouth off her neck again, reaching to remove the shirt he was wearing. He was glad to momentarily stop what he was doing to allow her to remove the garment and toss it aside, returning his hands immediately to the treasure he’d discovered beneath her shirt. He grabbed at her breast and squeezed, hard, eliciting a shriek of pain - or was it pleasure - from Ziva.

She returned in kind, scraping her nails down Tony’s bare back, reveling in the guttural growl that it elicited from him, before she again attacked his mouth with her own.

“Backseat?” Tony growled breathlessly, continuing to grope and grab hungrily at Ziva’s breasts, unconcerned with her bra being in the way of his hands for the moment.

“No,” she breathed, reaching to lean her seat back as far as it would go, pulling her partner back with her so that he was on top of her. “I do not… want to… let go… of you long… enough… to move… back there,” she said between bites to any part of his skin she could get her teeth into.

“Fuuuuuuck,” he moaned, grinding his hips down toward hers, hard, ensuring that she felt him against her most sensitive point.

She got the message. Removing her hands - and fingernails - from his body, she trailed them to the front of his torso, reaching for the belt on his pants, followed by the zipper which she swiftly lowered.

“Take them off,” she ordered. “Boxers too.”

“Why don’t you do it?” he countered, his anger still fueling his actions,  the usual filter that his brain used to keep him from saying stupid shit temporarily disabled due to the blood flow to his rapidly hardening penis.

“You’d like to keep this appendage?” she asked, grabbing him forcefully and stroking him almost immediately, her urgency coursing through her palm toward him.

“Jesus! Yes, yes, I would, holy shit… ah, your hand feels fucking good… _fuck…”_ he replied, leaning himself on the seat and hastily taking off the garments as Ziva so forcefully requested.

He could barely contain himself. Ziva was practically attacking him - both sexually and literally - and he had never been so turned on as he was at this exact moment. He reached down to her waist and began to pull at her pants, tugging roughly at the buttons, popping at least one of them in the process.

“You ripped my pants,” she stated, still stroking him, a little more forcefully than before. She glared at him.

“That’s for forgetting my donuts,” he responded, pulling the pants off of her and kissing her roughly again.

“There… weren’t… _any…”_ she moaned through gritted teeth as his fingers began to explore the areas he’d recently exposed.

She pulled him back down to her again, kissing him hard, biting his lip in the process. He returned the favor by biting her tongue, and she dug her nails deep into his ass cheeks. When she felt him yelp into her mouth, she took her right hand back and smacked his ass, _much_ harder than she’d smacked her own earlier.

“Ouch!”

“You like it,” she growled. He squeezed her breasts, pinching her nipples in response. It was her turn to yelp, and she did. He reached his hands up to her face, leaning down to kiss her gently. Stunned at the sudden change in pace, Ziva shuddered and melted into the kiss, moaning her approval. The hands that had cupped her face just moments before were pulling her hair before she knew it, and she dug her nails into her partner’s skin anew.

He pulled his lips from hers for just a second to lock eyes with hers - angry, fiery dark eyes met his own. He could see the lust which undoubtedly mirrored his own.

“Ziva,” he growled, his anger still not fully dissipated.

“You are so fucked,” she murmured, and pulled him down, _finally,_ to meet with her. He moaned as he felt her wetness envelop him. She squeezed her muscles around him, causing him to groan even harder.

He began to thrust - hard, forcefully - while she dug her nails into his shoulder blades and held on for dear life. His thrusting was angry and frenzied, and with every drive into her, Ziva shouted, reacting to the violent manner in which he buried himself into her. He filled her perfectly, she found, and despite her anger at the man, she was eagerly thrusting back, and she was nearing climax from only a few short minutes of rapid fucking.

“Now… who… likes… it?” He grunted out, beads of sweat dripping from his hair. Seeing her like this, all lost in the throes of passion and wrapped around his cock was something he’d never have imagined, not in a bedroom in DC or a hotel in LA, and certainly not in the passenger seat of a Mustang convertible in the middle of a 700 degree day.

“You… fucking… do,” she muttered, refusing to admit defeat in their battle of wills.

“You’re damn fucking right I do,” he affirmed, no longer caring about the argument or his anger. All he wanted was to _feel_ her. She wrapped her hand around his neck and pulled his head back to her own, joining their lips for a deep kiss. Tony continued to pound her relentlessly, taking out all of his frustrations on her wet center, and Ziva, not to be outdone, bit her partner everywhere her mouth could reach in between pleasured moans.

“I’m gonna…” she started, unable to finish the thought as she threw her head back, closing her eyes and gasping in a breath for one loud scream as she came, hard, around his length. It wasn’t but a few thrusts more before Tony’s own release came, and within moments, he collapsed on top of her, both sweaty and sticky and satiated.

Tony turned his head to look at his partner. She’d opened her eyes and was looking at him with that quizzical look, as if to ask him, _What the fuck just happened?_

“Goddamn,” he muttered, “no one can get me as worked up as you, you know that?” He knew she would understand the dual meaning of his question, and simply nodded, still unable to really respond.

“And you said _I_ was fucked,” he continued.

“You were, were you not?” She breathlessly countered.

“My ninja, I believe you were the one who was fucked, but if you’d like to argue, I could show you again.”

“Maybe later, Tony, or have you forgotten where we are?” Tony’s head suddenly snapped up as he realized that he and his partner were still on the side of the road - a public road - and his bare ass was probably working up a sunburn in the California heat.

“Shit,” he muttered, and reluctantly rolled off of her to put his clothes back on.

“We really do need to get to the Director,” Ziva pointed out, suddenly very uneasy. She could feel her patience leaving her. _We should have been to this damn diner over an hour ago,_ she thought.

“I do hope, for our sake, she really was doing Mr. Paperwork,” Tony mused, and he could tell that her partner’s thoughts echoed her own. Making himself presentable again, Tony slid back into the driver’s seat and turned the car back on, pulling back onto the road.

“For _your_ sake,” Ziva countered, already snappy again.

“Looks like not _all_ of your frustrations have been worked out, _Ziva_ ,” he responded, eliciting a glare from the woman beside him.

“There is not enough time left in either of our lifetimes for _all_ of my frustrations with you to be worked out, _Tony,_ ” she spat back at him.

“We could try,” he offered, looking at her as he pulled up to a stop sign. She didn’t immediately respond, so he continued. “Not gonna lie, angry sex with a hot woman on a hot day in a hot car, well, that was _hot.”_

Surprisingly, Ziva’s glare softened. “Well, I suppose I would like to try taking out my frustrations on you next time,” she responded, and smirked wickedly as she watched his face turn initially pale, and then flush at the thought.

“Promise?” he asked as he pulled into the diner. He never got his answer.

“There it is. I have seen that SUV before.”

**Author's Note:**

> Well come on, you all know what comes next… 
> 
> In the episodes to come, Tony is overcome with guilt - maybe this is why. He spent an hour dicking around (literally) with his partner while Jenny got caught up in a firefight ultimately leading to her death. I imagine that this scene adds a lot more depth as to why Tony feels the way he does. 
> 
> (And maybe even why Ziva keeps telling him it’s not his fault - after all, she’s the one who invited him to bite her!)


End file.
